Clandestine
by f U n N i E b O n E s 2K
Summary: Dorothy tries to say goodbye, but can't. “Is this how you’re punishing me for loving you? By giving me this life you believe is better when you know I’ll be spending the rest of it thinking of you every day?” Lime.


_I opted for a darker version of Hold On. Also, this is my stab at the show vs. tell exercise._

Clandestine

She threw him on the bed, his head barely hitting the pillows. She kept her eyes on him and his on hers as she slid her hands down the sides of her body. Illuminated only by pale blue moonlight, his eyes followed the way her hands took with deep desire. Taking her time, she slowly undid the straps of her sandals as she smiled sweetly at him. He threw his head back in the bed and closed his eyes, not even trying to hold his moan of frustration. He felt her hands tug at his shoes and socks. He enjoyed the feel of her skin tickling his feet. He was forced to give in to one of her games, and he wished he could prevent himself from giving in so easily. But she always won. And he would always let her.

He opened his eyes as he felt her body crawling up the bed and on top of him. She quickly realized that tonight he was determined to take control as she saw the dark desire that was reflected in his blue orbs. Suddenly, he bolted up and claimed her lips with his and pulled her down on top of him. His tongue delved into her mouth, dueling with hers, wanting, seeking, demanding. She fought back equally, making an attempt to maintain the upper hand. Breaking away from the kiss, his hands automatically slid down to her sides and his left hand pulled the zipper of the dress down. He managed to peel the dress off of her before he flipped them over so that he could be on top. He paused to let his eyes roam over her bare form. The pale blue moonlight had cast a beautiful shadow over her body, even though he didn't think she could become more beautiful than she already was. He took a moment and reached over to push stray strands of her hair away from her face.

"You're the most beautiful woman I've ever looked at. And you're mine," he murmured huskily.

She reached over to trace his lips with her fingertips, which he kissed, her eyes glittering with both mischief and appreciation of his sentiment.

"And you're the prettiest man I've ever set my eyes on." He chuckled as he listened to her, but she didn't give him the chance to say anything else.

She reached up so that their lips could meet once more. Her small, nimble fingers worked her way down to unbuttoning his shirt. In no time, she was pushing the shirt off his shoulders. She quickly reached down to unbuckle his belt, undo his pants and free him of his underwear. At that point, neither of them cared if the clothing would be torn or not, their only concern was to satisfy the need that burned within them. In no time, he was naked before her, and he was too buried in his desire to notice where her hands had traveled. She had distracted him by lowering herself and licking his nipple. By the time he recovered, her hand had wandered elsewhere. He threw his head back in frustration and hunger as her hands worked their magic on him.

Despite his inability to be in control, he was able to wonder if she would be there if he woke up. _Why was it that they had to play this silly little game? _Always hiding from the world, sneaking around, stealing kisses in dark corners, pretending to not care for each other at social events. He thought it was silly, but it was the only way he could have her. When they were in the same ball or charity event, it pained him to stealthily gaze into her eyes from across the dancing floor, and it pained him even more, reading the same kind of brief longing in her eyes before she would break their reverie and walk away. This was what she wanted, their relationship to be a secret to the world, and she was what he wanted. He had longed for romantic love, to be given the ability to give love and be loved in return, but this wasn't exactly what he had hoped for.

He had been the enemy before her eyes, and she was the aimless girl who had nearly killed him in his eyes, but he forgave her for that. Actually, there was nothing to forgive. She had been as lost as he was. After trying to search for his soul after the war, he had found his entangled with hers. He wouldn't even entertain the thought of ending it with her. He'd be in a worse situation than he ever was during the war.

His trance was broken as she suddenly stopped and looked at him teasingly, her eyes glinting with malice. He was unable to hide his frustration, and a short, throaty giggle escaped her lips as a response. She had been mistaken with his real frustration – that he can only be with her at certain times and certain days, away and unknown from the world, as if their love had never existed. He longed for the world to know about them, and sometimes he wondered if she kept it secret because she only considered him temporary and it was easier to end their liaison this way.

It pained him to think of being separated from her, but somehow, he kept delving deeper into that hole, allowing himself to become more involved with her, submitting his whole being to her. Regardless, he would still love her.

There was no other way he could make her understand how happy she had made him and how unhappy this situation had made him. So instead, he dipped down to crush her lips with his own, pouring his frustrations into that one kiss, and she responded back just as equally. His hands drifted everywhere, hungry to explore every inch of her, thirsty for the softness of her skin, lusting for the feel of her mounds. What he didn't realize that she sensed his unhappiness, his sadness, his doubts and worries, and it hurt her that she had been the cause of this. But no one would ever approve of their relationship.

Once _they_ find out, they will set to tear them apart. She would lose him. They had shared the laughter, tears, sadness and pain, only he could understand her, she thought as their two bodies enmeshed into one. She would always love him, and she knew he would never love any other than her, but there was always that nagging uncertainty in the back of her head. She was so worried and obsessed that she would lose everyone she held close to her heart, and every inch of happiness would be crushed that she took every painstaking step to make sure it didn't happen to Quatre. He was too kind, too extraordinary to suffer, die young. She felt his lips planting soft kisses on her lips and nose and jaw line, and she vaguely sensed his hands roaming to her waist. She arched her hips up automatically in response. She was too needy to lose him. He was all she had left now.

She thought he wouldn't notice in the dark, but he could taste the saline tears that trickled down her cheeks. Without even needing to think about it, he brushed the tears away, letting the moisture seep into the pores of his finger pads. He devoured every inch of her insatiably, realizing he had never been this way before with her. Then again, his frustrations had never impacted him this way before. He thought the end of the war had signaled the end of his suffering, but the end only amounted to more, just when he thought it couldn't possibly be worse. Because of this arrangement, they could only spare a few moments together, but they weren't completely happy, they were bittersweet. He had found his other half in her, and it hurt so much that he couldn't, on his own, just shelter her from all the pain and heartbreak she went through. He felt helpless that he couldn't protect her from the outside world, make them see the beauty inside of her as he did.

He wanted to do this slowly, savor her company and relish the precious time they can spend together. The fierce look in her eyes and the movements of her body underneath him made this goal next to impossible. In the corner of his eyes he could see their clothes hastily strewn all over the floor, remembering that now was not the time for soft caresses and gentle kisses, but now was the time to surrender themselves to their needs.

He thought no more as he swirled around in clouds of euphoria. Afterwards, he rolled over to her side and watched her draw lazy patterns on his chest with her eyes closed. As he watched her, he longed for the day when he could wash away all of the sorrow and disaster in her life. This was all routine, but he would never get tired of it. Every time, his want for consistency seemed to increase. He pulled her wrist to draw him to her and folded his arms around her, wanting to feel every breath, every heartbeat, and every pulse she made. She would always lie in his arms for several moments and wait for the regular rising and breathing of his chest and then she would say the three most important words in a whisper she was so afraid that he would hear. He so longed to stay awake, look into her eyes and return the sentiment, but she would not allow him that luxury. It was so difficult trying to stay awake and pretend to be asleep when the mere presence of her soothed his soul and enticed him to sleep and dream such sweet dreams. But he longed to hear them. She wouldn't admit her feelings to him when he was awake.

But tonight, he was too tired and drifted off to sleep before he could hear her. The last thing he felt was the icy touch of her fingers over his eyelids.

When he awoke, he could see her bending over, trying to tie the straps of her sandals around her right ankle. Her hair was tousled in a haphazard bun. She seemed to be in a great hurry to leave the room before he awoke. What was she going to do? Hastily leave a note on the desk telling him that she'd call him and leave him a quick perfunctory kiss? He wouldn't let her leave him like that. He would demand an answer.

He got up from the bed and it didn't take her more than a second to realize that he was awake. She stood and blinked at him once, her eyes large, as if in some sort of panic. She started at him for a moment, biting her lip. Then she chose to ignore him and saunter over to the settee where she hastily tossed her clutch the night before.

But Dorothy did not reach her clutch.

"Why are you walking away from this? Walking out on me, on us, when you tell me every night we're together that you love me?"

She turned around to face him, her eyes narrowing. She chided herself every time she would tell him, sensing all along that he heard.

"Because you don't deserve someone who can't even look you in the eye out in public, because you don't deserve anyone who can't even look you in the eye and tell you that she loves you and this is exactly why this has to end...so you and I can lead better lives."

"Is this how you're punishing me for loving you? By giving me this life you believe is better when you know I'll be spending the rest of it thinking of you every day?"

Although it pained her to say, "Think of it as a gift. You're still young and frankly, you don't know what you want. You'll be thanking me later when you find that a life with no strings attached and no secrets is a lot better than being stuck in a bed with a middle-aged woman you no longer love, when you have to swallow that your friends and family and people were right all along for hating her," the words quickly escaped her mouth.

At her answer, his heart dropped to his stomach. He didn't believe her, but he realized something else. Maybe that's what she thought of him. Maybe he was just a temporary distraction, a play thing to her. And that she was slowly easing her way out of his life.

"If they don't see the the good in you, if they don't know you like I do, what makes you think I'll see you differently later in my life? Do you think I'll suddenly turn blind one morning?" he asked, contending her.

She didn't know the answer. She grabbed her satin clutch and headed out the door and closed it behind her. When she reached the outside, she rested her shoulder blades against the door and sighed heavily. She looked out into the empty hallway. She didn't want to go out there. There was nothing outside of that door that she cared for.

She didn't know how long she stood outside, marinating in her thoughts. A few minutes, she supposed. He was right. Only she would be spending the rest of her life thinking about him too, hating herself for carelessly throwing her life away. And even if he was to become blind like the rest of them, it wouldn't matter. It wouldn't matter because there had been a brief moment in time that he saw the good in her and condoned her mistakes in the past. That was good enough for her.

Without giving it another thought, she turned the doorknob, relishing the cool feel of brass against her skin. When she whirled around, the soft chiffon of her dress spun about her. He had been sitting there in the same spot, looking at her expectantly, wearing only his undershirt, a pair of blue-green plaid shorts and his large heart. He had been waiting for her.

Their eyes met. The pleading, but commanding character in his eyes drew her to him. She went to him, framing his face with her hands. He fingers moved further up to his head to play with his hair. While running her fingers through his hair, she sighed. He looked up at her as he wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling him closer to her.

She just realized there was no reason to worry. He would always see the good inside of her, the softer side of her.

She would cancel her appointments today, she thought. She would tell her secretary she was ordering room service with Quatre Winner.


End file.
